


Easy to Know

by roselightsaber



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: (sorta) - Freeform, First Time, M/M, Praise Kink, Self Confidence Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 17:27:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10621668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roselightsaber/pseuds/roselightsaber
Summary: It suits them to accidentally stumble into their first time together, uncovering new love and trust in each other the same way they just as often find trouble.





	

“Training too hard again,” Baze mumbles as he pulls Chirrut closer, nearly on his lap, leaning comfortably against the wall next to his bed. It’s not really meant for two, but that rule is almost constantly broken lately.

Chirrut chuckles, partly to deflect from the truth of the statement, but also with genuine, surprised delight at Baze’s willingness to drag him over into his arms. Being aware of their feelings for one another seems to have made Baze, much to Chirrut’s dismay, even  _more_ cautious, contrary to expectation. “Training is meant to be hard,” he says simply, leaning into Baze’s hands. He will get what he wants either way, he knows, so needling him for fun is a bonus.

Baze grunts in annoyance and leans to kiss his shoulder. “You can challenge yourself without hurting yourself.” He pushes Chirrut’s robes off his shoulders and though it’s an innocent gesture, a practicality, it makes him shiver. “Are you cold?” Baze asks – not out of naivete, exactly, but a genuine doubt that it could be anything else. He rubs his hands together before starting to massage his shoulders. “I could get you some tea.”

“I’m alright,” Chirrut assures, already going pleasantly pliant under Baze’s expert touch. “Just keep doing that.”

Baze hums, pressing his thumbs into muscle more firmly. “At least eat more if you’re going to work so hard. You look skinny.”

“Do I feel skinny?” Chirrut’s voice, his cheeky smile, are undeniably flirtatious, a tone Baze still isn’t sure how to handle though he’s made his intentions perfectly clear to Chirrut.

“A _little_.” Deflection is usually the best defense – teasing, needling him as always in place of riskier shows of affection. He moves his hands lower down Chirrut’s back, splaying fingers across his ribs. “Too many bones here.”

“So picky.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” Tilting his head, he leans in and kisses him again, a smile pressed against his arm this time. “You are beautiful,” he admits; when honest emotion does seep through, it’s direct, not poetic, not as careful as he’d like. He presses more firmly to the small of Chirrut’s back, jerking away when he hisses in pain. “Sorry, sorry – what’s wrong?”

“It’s not that bad, it’s – I landed badly, and –”

“Ah, you’re all bruised…” Baze lets out a shaky breath as he loosens Chirrut’s robes at the waist for a better look, instantly on edge at causing Chirrut the slightest hint of pain. “I should have noticed, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not bad.”

“Chirrut, you have to be careful–”

“It’s fine, love.” It’s unfair to use the word to trip him up but – sometimes it’s the only thing that works, and Baze knows it as well as Chirrut does. Besides, no matter what insecurities nag him, Baze is deep-down _sure_ of their love for each other with a certainty he never thought possible. “Please…” He turns to face Baze, the other’s hands lingering on his waist. “Don’t. Just make me feel better.”

Baze sighs. “I just worry,” he explains, pulling him into an embrace, rubbing his sore muscles again as Chirrut settles his head on his shoulder. Baze closes his eyes, letting Chirrut flow into his senses, feeling his warmth, his even breath against his neck. “I want to take care of you,” he goes on, caressing up and down his back, comfort the goal now rather than practical relief. “You feel soft like this,” he murmurs, voice low and resonant in his chest as he dots kisses on Chirrut’s shoulder.

“First I’m too bony and now I’m soft? I should fight you right now, Malbus.”

“You’re more threatening when you’re not drooling on my shoulder.”

He slides his hand up to Chirrut’s neck, memorizing the feeling of his skin with fondness. He feels the other shift slightly, and commits that motion to memory, too. They’ve been slow to physical intimacy; the thought lingers in the back of his mind that perhaps Chirrut doesn’t find him attractive, or that their feelings for each other are more different than they realize. The subtle arch of his back, then, stands out to him strikingly, and so does the hitch in his breath. Baze thumbs at the nape of his neck, the soft bristle of close-shaved hair, and feels his face grow red at the quiet sigh Chirrut lets out in return.

Baze takes a steadying breath before he speaks, hoping he sounds as relaxed as he’d like Chirrut to think he is – as relaxed as he hopes Chirrut is himself. “You like that?”

Baze always doubts his senses at least a little, and doubly so when in comparison to Chirrut’s, but he swears he can feel the effect of those words instantly. He swears he knows the _moment_ Chirrut’s heartbeat quickens slightly and that he can feel his body temperature jump up a fraction of a degree. “It feels good,” Chirrut responds sheepishly, and perhaps the unsteadiness in his voice is the most surprising change of all.

Baze does his best not to look astonished, and goes promptly back to stroking the sensitive spot with gentle fingers, nervous as all doubt falls away from the fact that he is doing it on purpose, not to relieve aching his muscles, not even for comfort, but for _pleasure_ , deliberate and sensual. Chirrut’s hand dips from Baze’s shoulder to his chest, fingers stretching wide then curling slightly. “Don’t fight me,” he teases gently. “But you look beautiful right now.”

Chirrut lets out a whining sound that Baze would take for annoying at any other time and presses closer. Baze realizes for the first time how Chirrut is straddling one of his legs, how he can feel him starting to press against his thigh, and it takes his breath away. “Don’t I ever…” He takes a breath, flushed face nuzzling into the crook of Baze’s neck and shoulder. “Don’t I ever make you feel like this?”

Baze can’t even attempt to stifle his laugh. “I’ve been worried I couldn’t make _you_  feel like this.”

“How can you be so stupid sometimes?” Chirrut grumbles, no heat – or, no malice, anyway – in his tone despite the harsh words. “Does _I love you_  not tell you enough?”

Baze takes a beat too long to answer, and that’s all it takes.

“I try to show you,” Chirrut adds, his voice softer though Baze can still feel him flushed warm, his hand clutching at his chest. “You get so nervous…”

“Because you…” He laughs again. His nerves are no match for Chirrut in a mood like this, and he should have realized long before now that that is exactly how it should be. “You are such a perfect gift as you are.”

“I worry you think too highly of me,” he murmurs, dimly annoyed. “I am not art to be admired from a distance.”

Baze lingers on the thought a long moment, still caressing Chirrut’s back all the while, keeping him close, not daring to break the stream of sensation. Chirrut still breathes heavily, hotly against his neck, but seems content for the moment to simmer like this while Baze takes his time, certain his patience will be rewarded. Chirrut is no passive object of admiration, that much is clear, and Baze feels a twinge of guilt for approaching him as such. He can’t wallow in the regret for long, though, as Chirrut begins to busy himself with proving his mutual attraction, both hands dipping beneath Baze’s robes across his shoulders, pushing the fabric out of his way as he traces the shape of him. Baze closes his eyes and _feels_ , tries his hardest to put his worries, his self-consciousness aside.

“You like when I touch you,” Chirrut breathes against his ear. “Don’t you?”

Baze swallows. The answer should not feel so much like a confession. “I do.”

Chirrut hums softly in response, curious fingers tracing the muscles of his chest, soon following with kisses. “Whenever we’re paired up to spar I try to feel a little more of you,” he admits, smiling cheekily. “My Baze, growing into such a strong man. It’s much easier to tell like this, though.”

“I have to keep up with you, don’t I?” He fights the urge to argue, instead combing his fingers through Chirrut’s short hair as a distraction, leaning back against the wall a little. Feeling the other touch him, _want_  him, is a heady sensation he does not want to forget, though focusing on it for too long is almost too intense, like looking directly into a bright flame.

Chirrut seems to be doing everything in his power to keep up that intensity, all but worshiping Baze’s chest, admiring with touch and praising with kisses. “You feel so _good_ ,” he breathes, not a trace of embarrassment left in his tone. “I’ve wanted to touch you like this for so long, Baze.”

It does occur to Baze that Chirrut is praising him this way, being so blunt, on purpose – no one reads his insecurities better than Chirrut. He can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed, though, when the other is tugging his robes away so he can feel his arm in both hands, seeing every inch of skin with his fingertips. “You’ve bandaged me up enough times to know what I look like already, haven’t you?”

“Not like this,” He purrs, bringing Baze’s hand to his own cheek and nuzzling into it indulgently. “Not relaxed and comfortable and…” A sly smile crosses his face as he leans to kiss the corner of his lips. “Just starting to really heat up for me.”

Baze flushes and Chirrut nuzzles his cheek to be sure he knows it doesn’t go unnoticed. He makes no attempt at a denial, though, pulling the other closer again for a kiss, slow and luxuriant, an indulgent bit of practice as he resolves to give in to the occasional selfish impulse. Chirrut seems to sense this line of thought, sitting back a moment, skin exposed and flushed to his chest. He may be blind, Baze thinks, but there is no doubt in his mind that Chirrut knows exactly how he looks – at least how he looks to Baze. He smiles at him mischievously. _Waiting to be adored,_  Baze muses. _Or knowing he already is._

“Come back over here,” Baze murmurs gruffly, hoping feigned confidence will carry him through until the real thing kicks in. Perhaps it already has, to some degree; he reaches out for a handful of Chirrut’s robes to yank him back into his arms without thinking, drawing another happy sigh from the other as he cradles him close, dotting kisses across his shoulders. “You like teasing me too much,” he warns, though he sounds anything but bothered, and Chirrut can surely feel the smile that won’t leave his lips even if he can’t hear it. “Aren’t you injured? How can you have all this energy?”

“Only a little sore,” he assures, laughing. “And I don’t think I’m the one doing the teasing here.”

Baze raises his eyebrows at that. He wouldn’t have thought himself capable of getting Chirrut flustered before tonight; the idea that he might be good enough at it to _tease_ had not really crossed his mind at all. “Since you’re sore,” he ventures, emboldened at the thought. “I’ll be gentle.”

Chirrut lets out a stuttering, surprised laugh, and presses closer, stealing a slightly misaligned kiss in his haste. “Were you planning on being rough with me, my Baze?”

“I think you know I wasn’t planning at all,” he responds in kind, a soft chuckle on the edge of delirious. His hands finally land on Chirrut’s bare waist, thumbs rubbing ticklishly over the bottom of his ribs. “But I’ve thought of you…” A shudder ripples through Chirrut’s lithe frame, a harmony with the low rumble of Baze’s voice. “I’ve imagined how you’d feel.”

Chirrut opens his mouth as if to speak but he only fumbles for words a moment before closing it again – a rare occurrence to be sure. Instead he reaches out to tug at Baze’s robes more stubbornly, more purposefully, shifting closer to work at undressing him in earnest. It’s not particularly successful, except in convincing Baze to sit up and do it himself, even to nudge Chirrut back a moment to completely remove the bothersome fabric, leaving him in close-fitting breeches, self-consciousness held at bay by the eager way Chirrut’s hands spring back to him as soon as he’s tossed the robe aside.

“You feel so…” Chirrut’s hands trail down his chest again and suddenly he’s straddling his lap, and embarrassment flits across Baze’s mind at the realization that even for a blind man, the effect Chirrut has had on him is noticeable in his current state of undress, to say the least. The other is too set on admiring him for Baze to stay shy, though, graceful hands feeling down his abdomen, around his waist, getting a sense of his dimensions. “So solid,” He finally finishes, and something about the way he says it raises goosebumps across Baze’s skin.

“Is that a good thing?” His voice comes out a little softer than he would have liked, a little less self-assured than he wanted.

“Of course it’s good,” Chirrut murmurs, thankfully too busy exploring all this newly exposed skin to dwell on Baze’s surprise. “You’re so big and strong, my Baze.” There’s that tone again – Baze almost wants to chide him for it, to tell him not to patronize him. The words are so targeted, it’s clear, to boost his confidence.

Nonetheless, though, they feel _sincere_ , precise but not falsified for the purpose, and Baze hardly knows how to react. So he laughs softly, in his nervous way, and watches Chirrut with rapt fascination as he feels for the soft lines of muscle beneath his skin. “You know I love you,” he chances, his voice pleasantly deep and warm. These words, at least, come easily. “Don’t you?”

“I know,” Chirrut breathes against his navel where he is alternating kissing and nibbling at soft skin in a way that is threatening to make Baze forget how to speak altogether. “You make me feel loved, my Baze.”

Baze rubs a hand over Chirrut’s hair again, sure to let his fingers linger at that sensitive spot at his nape. “You make me feel loved too, little bird.”

Chirrut nuzzles his hip; it’s somehow innocent and sweet at the same time it is terribly lewd, a preview of what’s to come. Baze watches, half-disbelieving, as Chirrut’s hands feel for his hips, then his thighs, admiring in long, slow caresses. “You don’t have to be nervous,” he coos after a moment, tilting his head up for the illusion of meeting Baze’s gaze if not the reality. “I love you, Baze. I…” A playful smile pulls at his lips as he dots kisses across his chest again. “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

“You’ve thought about me?” His eyes grow heavy-lidded at the thought, and he brushes a thumb across Chirrut’s cheekbone in amazed admiration. It can scarcely be possible – this beautiful creature could have anyone in the galaxy he wants.

He nuzzles against Baze’s palm; he wants no one else. “You’re surprised?” He laughs shyly, holding that hand to his cheek a moment longer. “I’ve thought about touching you, feeling you, _hearing_  you…” Baze swallows, feeling his cock twitch. It is terribly clear that Chirrut notices, and Baze’s face burns at the sly smile that lights Chirrut’s expression. He finds Baze’s cheek with one hand, cradles his jaw as he plants a rough kiss on him. “It is so good to feel you wanting me, too.”

“I’ve thought about you too,” Baze laughs, going shy again as Chirrut strokes up his thighs languidly. “I used to dream about you…”

“Tell me,” Chirrut murmurs, his voice heated and husky in a way he’s never heard. Baze watches, almost disbelieving, as he licks his lips and palms him through his pants, tilting his head curiously as he traces the outline of his length. “If you want to, that is.”

“Since before I even knew what I was dreaming about,” Baze laughs, feeling a weight lifted at being able to confess so openly, to have private thoughts that once dragged him down with worry received with Chirrut’s pleased smile. His breath catches again as Chirrut shifts back to remove his robes. “I dreamed of touching you. And you touching me.”

“You make it sound so innocent,” Chirrut laughs, stripping off the rest of his clothing without the faintest hint of embarrassment. Baze, on the other hand, flushes bright red, and Chirrut squishes his cheeks between his hands with a gleeful laugh, _knowing_  despite not seeing. “It’s much too late to get shy now. Finish your story.”

“There’s not a lot of story to tell,” Baze laughs, resting his hands on Chirrut’s waist. “I’ve wanted you a long time.”

“If you’d spoken up you would have had me years ago,” Chirrut murmurs with a pout. His expression softens, though, as Baze pulls him carefully closer to kiss apologetically across his chest. “My sweet, shy Baze,” he coos. “You are worth waiting for.”

Baze hums against his skin, sliding a hand down his abdomen. “Can I touch you?”

“Please,” Chirrut blurts before he can think to say something less _desperate_. He laughs, though, bringing his palms to Baze’s face to feel him turning his gaze upward to watch his expression.

“You look so beautiful,” He sighs, giving him a slow stroke. Chirrut’s eyes are closed serenely, lips parted slightly in pleasure, fingertips reading Baze’s face, seemingly as enthralled with it as with his touch. “Feels good?”

“Feels good,” Chirrut confirms, brushing over the corner of Baze’s lips with his thumb as it curls into a smile. “I want to touch you too.”

“Can I…” Baze pauses, embarrassed to make a request already, until Chirrut lets out a faint moan that sends his confidence soaring again. “Can I watch you first?”

Chirrut hums an agreement, hips hitching slightly. “When my back is better,” he promises. “This will be more fun.”

Baze sits up straighter, a playful smile spreading across his face. “You look like you’re having fun right now,” He murmurs between kisses, feeling more bold. “You want to be on your back for me?”

Chirrut snorts, though he stumbles on his words slightly as Baze continues stroking him. “I – don’t think I said that, exactly. Just don’t judge me based on _this_.”

Baze nuzzles behind his ear. “I think you know you have nothing to worry about.”

Chirrut trails his hands down to Baze’s shoulders, a familiar sensation that feels new in this context. “Neither do you,” He reminds him, softly, hands roaming his chest admiringly. “You are more beautiful than I could ever imagine.”

Baze wants to deny it somehow, to tease him for being so wrapped up in pleasure from nothing more than his touch. But Chirrut’s voice is too sincere for it, too full of love, even heavy with the haze of lust. “You’re so good to me,” he sighs. “My Chirrut.”

Chirrut slides his hands down to hook his thumbs in the waistband of Baze’s breeches. “My Baze,” He repeats with a playful smile. “Can I?”

Baze pats his cheek fondly before lifting his hips to help Chirrut strip off the last of his clothes. “So eager,” He laughs, and though it’s a weak projection at best, Chirrut does not seem to mind. He shifts to kiss his way down Baze’s body once more, hands feeling for his hips before wrapping around his shaft at last. Baze leans back with a groan, relieved and needy at once, struggling with the dual impulses to watch Chirrut and to close his eyes and bask in the sensation.

“Big all over,” Chirrut observes with a cheeky smile, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his inner thighs. “I’ve thought about how you’d taste,” he muses, stroking too slowly up and down his length, nuzzling into the line of his hip so he brushes against his cheek.

“You don’t have to do that,” Baze whispers, watching with heavy-lidded eyes, cradling his head so he can rub that sensitive place at his nape.

“I know that.” He frowns just slightly. “I want to. I _like_ doing it.” He leans against his thigh a moment. “I can’t stop you from worrying all the time, but I won’t let you extend that shame to me.” He presses a firm kiss to his hip as if to seal the topic within these last few words, lest they spill into an argument that might ruin the moment. “Do you want me to?”

“…I do.”

“Then I will.”

“That simple,” Baze says with wonder, eyes fluttering shut as Chirrut takes him in his mouth, stretching out comfortably and hoisting one of Baze’s legs over his shoulder.

“It can be,” He replies, pulling back only long enough for the words, and to kiss his thigh again, rubbing his cheek to the soft skin like a contented cat. “Just relax.”

“Yes, my Chirrut,” he promises, noting with some curiosity the pleasantly surprised laugh that bubbles up from Chirrut’s throat at the gentle deference. Soon enough, though, he is acutely focused on pleasing him again, bobbing his head in a steady rhythm as Baze pulls his fingers slowly through his hair. “That’s so good, love.”

Chirrut hums, satisfied, one hand still stroking his thigh. It’s mostly self-indulgent – feeling soft flesh over solid muscle with unshielded admiration – but Baze has more tells than he knows, and feeling him tense and relax beneath his fingers is enlightening. It takes some time for Baze to let his defenses down enough to moan softly, and Chirrut can hear the way he first tries to bite back the sound. He groans around him in response, encouragingly, both hands clutching at his hips now as he feels him nearing release.

Another soft moan, a stark contrast to Baze’s usually gruff voice, and he starts to voice some gentle warning – but he doesn’t get the words out before it falls apart into repeating Chirrut’s name as he comes, still affectionately running his hands through his hair. Chirrut swallows what he can before pulling back, seemingly less startled by the timing than Baze himself. Baze opens his eyes after a few moments of out-of-body bliss to see Chirrut with his cheek pillowed against his thigh again, licking his slightly reddened lips. “Good?” He asks, completely unnecessarily, kissing up the line of his groin.

“Oh, Chirrut,” He murmurs, a rush of emotion hitting him more suddenly, perhaps more strongly even than physical pleasure. Chirrut can feel it, and Baze is slightly embarrassed at the speed with which he moves to embrace him tightly, to let him bury his face against his neck.

“Are you alright, love?” He asks gently, rubbing at Baze’s shoulders as the other clings to him. He feels him nod in the affirmative after a moment. “Tell me how you feel, Baze.”

“Good,” He says quickly, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “So good, I just need a minute.”

“Take as long as you need,” Chirrut whispers. “I’m kind of flattered it was so intense for you.”

“I have wanted you for _so long_ ,” he confides, though it’s hardly a revelation by now. “Loved you for so long.”

“And I love you just the same,” Chirrut reminds him, fighting off impatience to give Baze the time and care he needs. It occurs to him belatedly that it’s almost certainly Baze’s first time, and he resolves to ask him later, when this tenderness has worn off. “I want you just the same.”

Baze holds him like that a few minutes more, soaking in his warmth, letting it fill him until there is no room for shame or worries or doubt. “So patient with me,” he laughs at himself as he finally draws back, cupping Chirrut’s face in his hands and coaxing him into a kiss. “Turn around, I have an idea.”

Chirrut tilts his head with an inquisitive smile but obeys, turning his back to Baze, who pulls him close, flush against his chest. “Don’t,” he complains, tipping his head back onto his shoulder. “Don’t make me wait any more.”

“I think you like bossing me around a little,” he scoffs playfully, rolling his palms over Chirrut’s hips. “But I think I like listening to you.”

Chirrut just huffs a little laugh in response, head lolling forward again as Baze reaches around to stroke him, his other hand roaming over every inch of Chirrut’s bare torso. He’s on the verge of asking what the point of turning away from him is, exactly, when Baze presses a kiss behind his ear, light and ticklish. “Still teasing me,” he murmurs, nearly interrupting himself with another gasp of pleasure. “You know me so well, love.”

Baze smiles, pressing his free hand right over Chirrut’s heart. “I know you,” He agrees, thrilled by the feeling of his pounding heartbeat, and more at the sharp intake of breath as he kisses down his neck, nibbling at the soft spot between his neck and shoulder. “I think you’re an easy man to know.”

“Mm?” Amused, not insulted, he tilts his head the other way. “I’m not certain that’s a compliment.”

“You’re easy for _me_  to know,” he amends, following his lead and kissing up the other side of his neck. “You’re very open with me. And you make such beautiful sounds…” He nuzzles the nape of his neck, stroking him faster, pulling another moan from him. “How did I ever wait so long for you?” Mouthing at that sensitive spot, Baze closes his eyes, drinking in the sound of him, the feeling of his hips rocking against his hand.

“You’re so good to me,” he sighs, one hand closing over Baze’s on his chest, the other – again, Baze notes with some amusement – on Baze’s thigh. “ _Please_ , Baze.”

“I like that,” he purrs against Chirrut’s neck, spurred on by the arch of his back, his rapidly rising impatience. “I am good to you. I’ll always be good to you.”

Chirrut is flushed soft pink, a look of complete abandon somehow mingled with intense focus, allowing Baze to completely flood his senses. “Keep talking,” he asks under his breath, precariously close to begging.

“You like my voice?” There is real surprise in his tone at first, but it gives way to a teasing gruffness, a layer of self-assurance that sends renewed electricity across Chirrut’s skin. “I love making you feel good, my Chirrut.” He nips at his ear, suddenly understanding Chirrut’s insistence on doing the same to him. “Come for me.”

Chirrut shivers and spills over his hand with a deep moan, leaning back against Baze, holding his hand in place over his heart as if he might float too far away without the touch to ground him. “ _Force_ , Baze,” he breathes after a moment leaning for a sloppy, slightly awkwardly-angled kiss that is nonetheless enthusiastically returned. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Baze replies, feeling the words come more easily than ever. He lazily wipes his hand on his blanket, in no mood to let the other go nor to step away from him; he curls both arms around his waist and nuzzles into his neck again instead. “Sleep here tonight.”

“Of course,” Chirrut says, hands folding over Baze’s. “You’re right, you know,” he adds after a beat, an afterthought chased with a yawn.

“About what?” Distracted with attempting to wriggle his way under the bedsheets without having to actually let go of Chirrut, he’s less invested in this vindication than he might normally be.

Chirrut pats his arms in a gentle request to be let go, to which Baze reluctantly obliges. “I should go a little easier on myself, training.” He pulls the sheets out from under Baze’s legs and settles to lie next to him again before pulling the warm covers back up over the both of them. “Relax a little more.”

“Just be careful,” Baze chides gently, sliding down and curling close to him, fingers ghosting cautiously over the bruises on his lower back. “And let me take care of you sometimes, too.”

“You are persuasive…” He rests his head on Baze’s chest, tracing his collar bone with one finger. “Take care of yourself too, Baze. I know how your worries weigh you down sometimes, but remember I’ll carry them with you.”

“You are amazing, little bird.” He blinks sleepily, lulled into greater relaxation just to see Chirrut cuddled against him looking so deeply satisfied. “Are you happy right now?”

Chirrut smiles brightly, the corners of his closed eyes crinkling with unabashed joy. “I’ve never been happier, love.”

“I’m sorry I made you wait.”

“I told you, you are worth waiting for. Your _comfort_ is worth waiting for.”

“Mm. But I won’t make you wait so long next time.”

“Unless I ask you to.”

“…Yes, my Chirrut.”


End file.
